


New Ways

by trepidatingboarfetus



Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Catholic Guilt, Crossdressing Kink, Dirty Talk, I'm Going to Hell, Light Bondage, M/M, but I'm ok with that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27597632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trepidatingboarfetus/pseuds/trepidatingboarfetus
Summary: Inspired by a picture by marina-rasteniye from The Lost Boys GTAV Fanzine.A companion piece to Sea Water and Summertimes. Michael is beginning to fall deeper and deeper, past the gates of Hell for his friend, and he finds he maybe doesn't mind.
Relationships: Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips
Comments: 9
Kudos: 43





	New Ways

**Author's Note:**

> Written for marina-rasteniye on Tumblr who also contributed to our fanzine in a huge way, and she made this fucking gorgeous picture of Trevor in lingerie that I'd meant to write a story to, but things kept happening, and I forgot. But here it is now, and maybe it's better I waited. I hope you love it, Marina. 
> 
> And we agreed that Daughter brings us the soundtrack to all that is Trikey lol. Here we are again. New Ways belongs to Daughter.

_Worst I bring_

_I have a dirty mind_

_Oh, I need, I need new ways_

_To waste my time_

_I need new ways_

The afternoon was slowly fading into an orangish-red glow as Michael swirled the keys anxiously in his fingers. They’d already given up trying to look modest by getting a room with a double bed a couple of weeks back because it saved them money in the end, and really, with as nice and as long as Trevor’s hair had grown out, as long as he didn’t go anywhere near the front desk, he could pass for a girlfriend or something. 

_For a girlfriend or something_. 

The words rolled around in his mind, giving a funny hop to his swagger. He knew he should be disgusted with himself, Catholic-upbringing and all, but fuck it -- at the end of the day, Trevor was the sexiest thing he’d ever had on the end of his cock in his whole entire life. The man sucked and ate at him as if he were the last meal he’d ever see in his life, and it made Michael feel like the most desired piece of shit on the planet. 

And he knew he was a piece of shit no matter what pedestal Trevor kept trying to stick his ass upon. Wouldn’t he have a fucking career to write home about instead of being a washed-up former All-State quarterback turned wannabe gangster like in those old black and white films on the Sunday matinees?

Fucking whores was becoming tiresome. They told you what they thought you wanted to hear, but it was all versions of the same bullshit in the end, and some just didn’t even care to put any effort into it, leaving you with a lackluster mess on your Levis afterward. 

When he’d even first figured out that Trevor had certain ‘inclinations,’ it had awakened something in him that had laid dormant since his days in the showers down in the hole of his old school underneath the gym. Everyone would play around and slap asses, but it had been a Catholic school where no one had been foolish enough to try anything lest they would find themselves on the end of harsh punishment from a nun’s ruler or reciting the rosary while kneeling on rice as penance for an hour.

So when they’d found themselves stuck in a long-forgotten lakeside town in Indiana a few weeks back, not only had he figured out that he had a thing for listening to Trevor speak to him in French like that godforsaken skunk from the old cartoons, but it had definitely made his toes curl and the pit of his belly churn as if it were filling with thousands of butterflies rushing to escape at once to find out that he could talk to Trevor however he wanted, and his friend would just eat it up. God, that fucking feeling had excited him. 

Christ, there were so many things he wanted to do with his pretty new toy. 

A fleeting thought told him he should be concerned about all of these things, but he brushed it aside as fear of the new and unknown.

_I’ve been trying to stay out_

_But there’s something in you_

_I can’t be without_

_I just need it here_

“The handcuffs aren’t too tight, are they?” There was a muffled reply, and Michael laughed cockily as he put the key in the nightstand drawer. “What am I saying? Like you’ve never been in handcuffs before that were tighter than this, right?”

By some stroke of dumpster-diving luck -- or the five-finger variety, Michael never could be too sure -- Trevor had managed to run across a sheer pink nightie, even if it was in ragged condition in places and some nude stockings with runs that he was wearing along with the pair of white lace thongs he’d already stolen from someone’s clothes the last time they’d been to the laundromat, and the way everything hit his slight curves to the way the orangish-red beams danced on his hair, lighting it up like flames...he was a sight to behold, and everything about him made Michael both very hard and very confused at the same time.

He wanted to ravage the fuck out of him but get the fuck away at the same time. 

His painfully starved cock settled on the former as he dipped into his favorite hole who didn’t need much preparation because he just _knew_ what Trevor had been busying himself with doing while Michael had been out. He still grunted against the makeshift gag though as Michael eased in. When he was fully in, he tied Trevor’s ankles to the posts, too, and stopped to admire his handiwork. 

What stared back at him was remarkable beauty and solid strength at the same time. Two sides of Heaven.

He grabbed at his duffel bag that was hanging precariously at the side of the bed, trying to reach for his Polaroid One Step because there was no way he wasn’t forgetting this moment ever. He wanted it etched into his memory the same way his Granny Townley used to do needlepoint as if her life depended on it. He wanted to be able to go back and pluck this from a catalog of memories just like it when…

Because he knew what kind of lives they lived. They wouldn’t always be happy. God forbid he’d end Trevor’s life first because of a miscalculation caused by his own stupid arrogance or greed. So he tried to be thankful for what he had even if he no longer attended mass. 

And damn was he so fucking thankful for two things right now: how velvety Trevor felt wrapped around him, and how bashful he looked as he noticed the camera. He turned to and fro, trying to escape it, groaning his frustration, but he stopped as soon as he heard the click. 

Michael leaned forward to suckle an earlobe gently and then breathed into it. “You look so fucking gorgeous like that, and I want you to know it.” The result was a breathless moan and two amber eyes dilating widely back at him to which he chuckled before he left a kiss and righted himself again. Fingers trailed up and down the fragile stockings, catching on the runs and ruining them even more, but there was something wildly hot in that action that even Trevor echoed it from beneath the gag, and before long, he found himself thinking _fuck it_ and just ripped the nylons the rest of the way off to the ankles, his eyes unyielding from Trevor’s doe-eyed glazed-over stare. 

Still, he hadn’t moved, something in him burning with lust, sloth, greed, envy, gluttony, and pride but no wrath. The only wrath was in Trevor’s eyes and mouth as he screamed hoarsely from behind the gag something that sounded either like “Mikey” or “fuck me,” Michael wasn’t completely sure. 

But he’d oblige either way. 

Every plunge inside became a need like dipping into the welcoming warm waters of Cocytus. Every throaty whine from Trevor became a siren’s song that called to him and brought him closer toward damnation. He increased his strokes until he was pounding so hard, he thought he was sending them both into Hell with Trevor shouting for him on their way down. 

“Fuck yes, you love that, don’t you?” he grunted and then ripped the gag off, suddenly struck with the desire to hear Trevor’s voice delivered to his ears in more than just whines. “Tell me just how much you love feeling me inside you.”

Trevor, whose pupils were so blown and lost to his wantonness by now, hummed and bit his lower lip before rocking into him with an almost shy whisper of, “I love you so much, Mikey.” And then louder, “Fucking fill me up, baby.”

And that was all it took to cast him into eternal darkness with his friend. Goddamn, did it feel so good though that he’d gladly keep returning until his soul was lost. 

As he cleaned himself off, he noticed Trevor sitting on the opposite side of the bed, resting momentarily as if still trying to catch his breath, and against the fading hue of sunset, even with his tousled bedhead, the burn scars that pockmarked his skin that were leftovers from a past he didn’t really like to share just yet, and the torn old lingerie, he was still the most stunning example of sexiness that Michael had ever seen. 

The Polaroid came out and captured it again before his friend could dare to move. 

The telltale click made Trevor turn his head, but he feigned annoyance. “Gonna jerk off to that then, eh, Mikey?”

He smiled as he watched the picture develop in his shaking hand. “You’d better fucking believe it, gorgeous.”

And he would too. That picture, although faded and wrinkly, would stay with him always as a sign of to whom his soul actually belonged.


End file.
